We Rise
by Trayscent
Summary: The world has been devastated by Dr. Gordon Amherst's Green Poison. But all hope is not yet lost. A ragtag team of the most unlikely of comrades have found a possible source of a cure for it from the most unlikely of places. They must overcome their hatred of each other, and their past, to save what's left. Self Insert feature!
1. Chapter One: We Got Them

The sound of a hammer belonging to a pistol echoed in the empty intersection of a street in a deserted town.

"You have till the count of three, before I blow your fucking brains out onto the pavement to give me what I want bitch." An angry man said, holding a fistful of hair on a woman who was on her knees below him.

"Better tell us where you hid the stash we saw earlier before Gizz over here gives you your last makeover." Another man said, kneeling down to look at her square in the face.

The woman, in her early thirties was beaten to a pulp. She sported two black eyes, her left eye was so swollen it covered half her cheek. Dirt and blood caked her face so much you could barely tell she was caucasian under all that grime. She spat blood onto the man's face, which earned her an immediate yank by Gizz who then punched her in in the side of the head for the twelfth time. She groaned softly, her throat barely able to convey the shockwaves of pain coursing through her head from the impact.

A gunshot rang out and the two men jumped, turning to look over at the source to find a girl no older than 13 holding a handgun pointed at the sky. She leveled the pistol at Gizz, her hands shaking and unsteady.

Gizz immediately pulled the woman up so she stood limply in front of him, feet dragged on the ground barely responsive. He wrapped his arm around her neck and pulled her close, pushing a knife into her cheek. The other man pulled out his pistol, aiming it at the preteen.

"You don't wanna do that little kid." He said.

"Yeah, drop the gun else I gut your mom." Gizz pressed the knife closer in on the mom's cheek, drawing some blood. The kid wavered, blinking a few times before lowering the gun. The man walked closer to the child, leveling his weapon at her small frame.

"Good, now you both die." He said, pulling the trigger. The gunshot rang in the air, the woman somehow gasping in shock and rage despite her numb senses. Her rage subsided however, when she saw that it was the man who fall over, and not the child. A square in the forehead hole exploded from him. His gun fired, but the shot went wide missing the girl.

Gizz yelped, looking towards the source of the gunshot. All he saw was a dark alleyway filled to the brim with garbage bags and debris.

"Hey!" He yelled, toward the alleyway. "Better not do anything stupid or the woman dies!" Gizz heard the sound of a echoing metal behind him and whipped his head around. There, baseball bat in hand was someone dressed in a hoodie, with a baseball cap covering their eyes and a bandana over most of their face. Gizz could see a wicked smile on their lips. The thug kept clapping the bat against their hand with a bored expression. He knew random muggers and looters but none of them dressed like this. No, this was a specific style that was reminiscent of a faction. A faction from New York. '_Was that a Rioter? From Manhattan?_' He thought, surprised.

"Better back up punk." Gizz said to the baseball bat holder.

A loud burst of fire lit up the area to Gizz's right. Turning, Gizz saw a figure dressed head to toe in thick garments reminiscent of a hazmat suit and a gas mask that had a ventilator to an oxygen tank. That oxygen tank was also fitted next to what appeared to be a napalm tank, which the figure used to expel a cloud of flame in an intimidating fashion above their head. '_What is a cleaner doing here? Don't these two hate each other? Why are they together?_' He thought a little worried.

An arrow flew by Gizz's head, missing by mere inches. The direction it came from showed a yellow hooded archer that had fashioned quarantine tape and hazard signs as makeshift clothes and armor. The quiver on their back had arrows that rattled against each other, and the glare of the light on their bow as they drew another arrow and aimed it at Gizz made him avert his gaze. In that brief moment, he swore he saw the bowman wink at him. '_Wait, aren't these the crazy Outcasts from DC?' _Gizz was starting to get confused, his mind beginning to daze at the different factions staring at him.

Another sound came from a window above, the unmistakable sound of groaning wood as the window was forced open. Looking up Gizz saw a jet black fully armored soldier with a bulky backpack. A drone buzzed next to the soldier, a green glow shone from it with a white diamond emblazoned on it's side. '_That one I have no idea, but that can't be good.'_ He was even more worried now that he didn't recognize who this soldier belonged to.

A heavy boot footfall to Gizz's left gave sight to a person in a bright orange jacket with a black vest with a large white 'X' spray painted over it. A swat helmet adorned their head, and they hefted an LMG in their hands. The newcomer's outfit was bulky and clad in multiple layers of armor. '_The hell? A Riker?' _Gizz thought. The Riker had their sleeves rolled up, revealing an arsenal of tattoos that crawled up their arms.

"Hey little birdie." A voice cooed from behind him. Gizz swung around, to see a white and black clad tactical soldier, donning a swat helmet and a giant black shield that was upright blocking most of their body. The soldier was nearly the opposite in color scheme of the one in the window above Gizz. Their voice was muffled by the helmet and gas mask they wore, but leveled an Uzi with a red dot sight at Gizz. '_That's LMB!_' His heart dropping into the pit of his stomach. He had at the very least heard of a lot of bad things about the Last Man Battalion.

A sloshing sound came from someone with a military vest and a black bandanna wrapped around their face. They held an assault rifle that had a tube mounted to it that connected to a canister that was hooked on horizontally on their hips. There was a hodgepodge of military boots, belt, and headset on this individual that could only mean one thing. '_Great, a True Son too_?' Gizz thought, incredulous that the situation could get any more fucked up than it already was. Oh, but it did.

A loud mechanical sound exploded from next to the True Son. An RC vehicle drove from out of the corner, accompanied by a person dressed in a bulletproof vest, and a baseball cap worn on top a gas mask that covered their face. There were green splotches randomly spray painted all over this individual, and they held a remote controller from the RC in their hand. '_The hell is a little car gonna do with… oh.' _Gizz finished the thought when he looked down to see about ten bricks of C4 haphazardly taped to it. He didn't recognize this one, but he had heard of a chaotic group in DC similar to the Rioters. What were they called? Lions? Chimps? Gators? Hyenas?

Eight people encircled around Gizz, who swung about repeatedly telling them to back off.

"Any of you freaks make a move and the woman dies!" He dug the blade closer to her throat, holding onto her for dear life.

"A move like this?" Through the thickness of some dust, a red circle glowed like the devil's eye. It was attached to the arm of a petite frame. A woman stepped toward Gizz, her body covered in ammo pouches, grenades, wires, and armor. Across a shoulder strap of her large backpack, three glowing orange circles from watches hung limply from it. She carried a modified G36C, barrel still smoking lightly.

She smiled, leveling the rifle at Gizz, who in turn pushed the knife harder into the woman's throat.

"Don't do it! I'll kill her!" He yelled in desperation. All around him, eyes stared at him like predators. Sharp gazes pierced his mental will, making his knees begin to shake unconsciously. The woman laughed. She laughed hard. So hard, she lowered the rifle, and slapped her knees with a gloved hand as she bellowed. A few of the others chuckled and snorted under their breaths as well, making Gizz uncomfortable.

"I'll do it! Don't you test me!"

"Don't you understand asshole? If you do it, you're dead." The soldier with the black diamond drone said from above.

"And if you don't, you're also dead. Funny isn't it?" The Hyena said, howling in a few intimidating screeches before laughing.

Gizz didn't get to reply, the Rogue Division agent shot him square in the head and with pinpoint precision fired another round in his shoulder blasting it away from the woman within a millisecond of each other. She took the moment he looked away to down him in two accurate shots. He fell to the ground, life passed in a moment and the woman collapsed to a heap next to him.

They all circled in on the woman, the little girl ran to her, holding out her hands defensively. The Rioter mocked fear, while the True Son held up their hands pretending to surrender to the kid. The beaten woman, finally got enough strength to open her unswollen eye at the Division Agent. Pain flowed through her body back in forth in debilitating waves. She managed to sit up, the girl standing next to her looked around her warily at the crowd.

"Why… did…. you...save...us?" She whispered between breaths, struggling to hold herself up. The Rogue Agent leaned closer, her weapon stowed on her back already.

"Because. I need you and your niece to fix the shit that we've got ourselves into." She said, leaning back with her arms crossed.

The woman on the ground blinked in shock. '_How did she know she's my niece and not my daughter?_' She thought in disbelief. Her breathing became more erratic as worry and anxiety pooled inside her. The Rogue held her hands up and shook them in a non-threatening way.

"Yes, I know who you both are. No, I'm not going to hurt you. _We_ are not going to hurt you." She gestured to the rest of them who nodded and huffed in agreement. "We're actually here to keep you safe, from your little suicide mission love."

The woman gaped, mustering what strength she had left to shake her head. "No… I-"

"You think you're keeping Savannah Shaw safe by running away with her alone from her mother!?" The Agent yelled, cutting her off. The group around her uncharacteristically fell silent. Even the Rioter and Hyena didn't make a move.

"Emeline is delusional." The Outcast among them finally said, squatting down to be eye level with the woman and Savannah. "I thought what your mother was doing was noble. Was justice. But all she wants is vengeance. She doesn't care who gets hurt. Not even you." Savannah's eyes teared up.

"Shut up! You don't know my mother!" Savannah cried. The Outcast's eyes were grim behind their gas mask, somehow conveying sadness underneath all that rubber.

"Maybe not. But you've got the cure running in your blood little one." The Rogue said, placing a hand on Savannah's shoulder. "I aim to get you somewhere safe. Everyone here does. A place where someone with the know-how could save the world from the Dollar Flu."

Savannah took a step back, looking to her battered aunt for guidance. The woman stared right back at her niece, doubt and worry coursing through her mind like fireworks let loose. She didn't know what to do, but she knew that they wouldn't make it much longer. At worst, she could get back to fighting strength and escape with Savannah from this ridiculous group of would be friends. How did they all get along with each other anyway?

After a moment, the woman extended her hand out to the Agent.

"You got yourselves a deal." The Rogue smiled, before taking her hand and lifting her up to her feet. There was applause and cheers among the group. "Secure the area, we're leaving in two." The Agent said briskly, swinging her backpack off her back and reaching around inside before pulling out a worn first aid kit case.

"Where are we headed?" The aunt asked as the Agent began administering first aid to her. The agent continued her work, not making eye contact with the aunt.

"New York." She said. "Back to where this all started."

* * *

Thanks for reading! Here's how the Self Insert will work.

There are 8 slots available. Once a faction has been taken, I'll mark it off on my profile, but I'll pm you if there's any discrepancies there. Each slot takes one of The Division factions predominant in both 1 and 2. So currently that's the four factions from both games. Rioters, Rikers, Cleaners, and LMB from 1 and Hyenas, Outcasts, True Sons, and Black Tusk from 2. **S****end me a PM answering the following questions**:

**Character Name**:

**Character Physical Description**: (Be sure to describe age, height, weight, predominant features on the body like tattoos or scars, hair color, eye color, piercings, etc.)

**Character Apparel**: (What are they wearing, how is it decorated? You don't have to describe weapons here, that will be assigned to you via Class )

**Character Linguistics**: (What languages can they speak, also any terms or phrases they might use often. Think of how Bugs Bunny is known for the line "What's up Doc?" or what words you find yourself using often)

**Character Personality Traits**: (Describe them in a nutshell. The more you give, the more I can stay attuned with what you like. Otherwise, I'll be adapting other traits on there. Try to add negative traits as well.)

**Character History**: (What was their past like? What led up to the events of DC or New York?)

**Character Motivations**: (Why do they want to keep pushing forward to another day?)

**Character Faction**:

**Character Class**: (Each Faction works a little bit different as far as classes go. The class is the symbol you normally see above their heads, and determines the archetype they are. You've got Rushers, Engineers, Medics, Snipers, etc. You can either pick one, multiple, or all of them. Have fun here)

* * *

**Disclaimer**: It should be dreadfully obvious I don't anything from the Tom Clancy's "The Division" universe. None of this is for profit, and is purely for recreational purposes.

* * *

And with that, let's have some real fun!


	2. Chapter Two: End of the Line

It's good to see you again Agent! Let's rock.

* * *

"Two on the roof." A voice whispered into the earpiece of the Rogue Agent. She nodded and unhooked a flashbang grenade on her belt before passing it over to the Black Tusk mercenary. The jet-black soldier nodded and pulled the pin, placing it into a slot on their drone. After shining a laser point painter towards the roof, the Black Tusk hit a few commands on a small digital controller which prompted the drone to fly off. It flew towards the top, before rotating and launching the grenade using compressed air perfectly six stories above them.

The grenade detonated, a soft shell-shock sound filled their ears despite the distance. '_High-end quality indeed.' _The Agent thought, before pointing to the roof of an adjacent building.

"Hit it." She said into her mic.

Screams echoed through the empty streets, followed by cussing before two consecutive arrows flew from the adjacent building into two guards on the roof silencing them.

Gunfire erupted into the second and fourth floor of the target building from across the street. The concentrated automatic gunfire from the Riker and LMB tore apart the other guards that stood near the glass of the small business structure.

Below, the Agent waved her index finger in a circle, indicating the main group to advance. She led the True Son, Black Tusk, and Cleaner into the building. Returning gunfire spewed from the target building, but they were concentrated on the Riker and LMB. Above, a drug-fueled Hyena jumped across onto the target roof, where small arms fire continued. The Outcast, Hyena, and Rioter made their way from the top with the ensuing distraction.

The Agent leveled her G36C, flicking the safety off in time to fire into the glass of the ground floor where alerted guards tried to respond to the threat. Between her and the rest of the squad they cleared six guards down in an instant, paving the way for the group to advance. As they entered the building, the Cleaner sent a volley of 7.62's into an adjacent hallway forcing the occupants into cover, before switching to their flamethrower and blasting them into a firestorm.

The True Son and Black Tusk pushed hard towards the first floor of the rundown insurance broker building. There were a lot of sales centric cubicles and office rooms that had the opportunity to hide assailants. She watched as the True Son dove over a desk as the Black Tusk covered them, and the True Son threw a couple grenades over the cubicle wall and then returned fire.

"Watch your corners. Stay vocal, I don't want surprises." She ordered, and the whole team proceeded to callout their kills and enemies as they engaged them.

The Agent followed the Cleaner, covering for any combatants missed by their rather zealous attitude of burning each body they killed. This often left the Cleaner open to attack, which the Agent compensated by eliminating flanking or missed targets. She could trust the Black Tusk to take care of the True Son. Dispatching a few more guards with relative ease, she and the Cleaner pressed deeper into the building. They found the stairs leading to the second floor, and she motioned to the Cleaner to allow her to take point. The Cleaner nodded, revving the flamethrower gauge spurting a few flames in excitement.

The Rogue took her magazine out and felt the weight. She had two full magazines left within the four pouches on her vest, and didn't want to take the chance so she exchanged it out. Exchanging the near empty mag in a fluid motion, she racked the slide and focused her attention forward. '_Thirty._' She thought, mentally taking note.

They stood at the base of the stairs, she peered through the tiny glass window and was greeted with simple concrete architecture and a few plumbing pipes.

"Hey." The Cleaner said, prompting her to look over. The elevator next to them had the 'up' button pressed, and she signalled for him to decoy it to the top floor. She flashed the Cleaner a thumbs up, forgetting that even the overzealous sanitation squad from Manhattan still had brains under their thick skulls.

She led the way up the stairs, her assault rifle held close to her and diagonally stable between her shoulder and arms. The elevator went straight pass the second floor by the time they made it to the entrance, and she counted down with her hand to the Cleaner. She gently pulled on the door lever, and pulled it open towards her.

The room was in near total darkness, dim evening sunlight barely broke deep enough to where they were. She tapped a few buttons on a smartphone strapped to her arm, and a tiny projector whirred to life on her shoulder.

"Calibrating." A soft mechanical female voice said, tiny lights fired out from the projector to scan the immediate surroundings. After a brief second a tiny light green square appeared in the bottom right of her vision. She was happy that, even if she was disavowed by S.H.D. and didn't have access to ISAC, her high-tech contact lenses still worked. After a few tweaks from the Black Tusk and LMB of course.

A tiny white prompt appeared on her phone that said: "Initiate" and she pressed it. Within a second, the projector shot out a perfect outline of a person roughly the same height and build as herself. There were no features to this shadow, but it was enough to give the impression that someone was standing there clad in pitch black clothes.

She angled herself to allow the hologram appear to move into the room and immediate gunfire erupted from inside peppering the doorway with gunfire.

The ex-agent cussed and flipped the hologram off as voices began shouting inside the room. When the gunfire began slowing, she reached behind her with her left arm, placing it in the bottom middle of her backpack. She blinked her left, right, and left eye in that sequence which initiated a protocol that prompted metal bracers to lock around her arm from her bag. A strap fired out from the bracer which she caught and gripped it hard. Swinging her arm back in front of her, the Crusader Shield popped open. The folds of thick carbon fiber on dense bullet-resistant aluminum shined a matte black despite the low light. In the same motion she positioned the shield so that it covered the top half of her body and swung the G36C onto the middle of the shield. Stabilizing it so that the red dot sight aimed at the center of her field of view, she blitzed into the room without a second thought.

Bullets impacted her shield immediately, some ricocheting off and others denting the hull before falling onto the ground. The loud cacophony of gunfire would have disoriented most people. The sound of a bullet whizzing past your ear would have frozen others. But she wasn't most people.

She kept her grip on the shield firm, and moved so that it always stayed center to her as she returned fire on the assailants. There were at least ten of them with a mix of small arms, shotguns, and rifles. She kept her knees bent and her body low to the ground to allow the shield to cover her legs. Her movements were quick, she precisely turned to execute three goons with five pinpoint accurate rounds each in a span of four seconds before diving into a network of cubicles. As she rolled to a crouch, her shield fell apart on her arm, deteriorating after taking such brutal abuse. She winced as she felt a bullet had clipped her cheek once she was still, and the wet sensation of blood dripping down her chin strengthened her resolve.

The Cleaner opened fire from behind her, his AK47 erupting in a continuous stream of automatic dispersal. They focused their attention to the Cleaner, giving her time to dash to the end of her cubicle pod. She slipped the rifle on her back, and pulled her combat knife out of its sheath on her leg and cut through the cubicle wall. Breaching through, she proceeded in flanking the remaining enemies. They didn't even see her move behind them, and with the Cleaner they finished the rest of them off within a minute from the effective pincer maneuver.

The Cleaner flashed a thumbs-up from his position and The Rogue nodded, exchanging her empty mag out and sliding another one in. In the middle of her reload a mass suddenly appeared in her peripheral. Instinctively she raised her gun which parried an overhang swipe, the clang of metal on metal indicated her attacker was holding a knife.

"You fucking bitch! We had a good thing here!" The gruff voice said, belonging to an older man with a long grey beard. He pulled back with the knife and thrust it towards her with an agility that was unexpected for a man of his age. Instinctively calculating she didn't have time to angle her rifle at him in that split second, she instead shifted her weight and moved forward into the knife.

The knife barely went passed her on her left side next to her stomach, she pinched her left arm against her locking his arm next to her. Pivoting on her foot, she spun her body to keep his knife hand against her as she closed the distance to him. Within this motion, she dropped her rifle and with her free hand she pulled her own knife out of its sheath. As soon as she finished a revolution, her face was next to his, and her blade struck through the back of his neck. Blood sprayed out onto her face as it protruded through the front. Her acrobatic death dance allowed her to keep his knife hand under her control, all the while giving her the momentum to swiftly finish him in a mere second.

"Ff…." He mumbled, struggling to breathe as blood filled his throat. The Rogue looked him dead in the eyes as his strength began to waver, and she kept her eyes locked with his as she slowly laid him down. He kept an angry look as she sat them both onto the ground, and she leaned over to whisper into his ears.

"End of the line, you sick fuck."

* * *

Outside, Savannah watched with horror next to her aunt as the force of nine breached the civilian stronghold with lethal force.

"Are… we really going to stay with them Aunt Fiora? They're killing all those people." She asked, still shaking from the loud caliber gunfire. Despite all of what she experienced, she still wasn't used to the shockwave of bullet expenditure.

Fiora watched the carnage through her only open eye, her swollen one was still healing and was patched delicately with gauze around her head.

"They're better as our friends and not our enemies Savannah." Fiora replied, gripping her niece's shoulder.

"It's… awful." Savannah whispered, unable to watch. She closed her eyes, covering her ears as she huddled next to her aunt. Fiora wrapped her arm around the young teen, looking around to make sure there weren't any surprises despite the fact they were hidden in the shadow of some car pile up.

The tactical cohesion of the unit was impressive. Fiora wasn't a military savant, but she helped Emeline overthrow the government goons at Roosevelt Island. They had to be fast, deliberate, smart, and resourceful to get that done. Watching the ragtag group was surprising, as they breached and cleared the building with such finesse she would have guessed they had known each other even before the Dollar Flu hit.

After about ten minutes, the gunfire lessened to occasional spurts. After another five, it was silent. The True Son exited the building with their mask off, revealing a chiseled masculine face. He was in his early 30's, military cropped sweaty brown hair lay above a pair of sharp green eyes. His thick mustache was bouncing along his mouth as he muttered a bunch of things really fast.

He carried his LMG at rest in an odd way as he made his way over, at least odd to Fiora. Do people actually carry it as if they were holding baby in the military?

"Fuckin' Lily. Puts me together with the Black Tusk, but let's the Black Tusk take charge? What's a Black Tusk do better than me? Probably suckin' dick that's what."

The True Son bitterly said to himself, not paying attention to anything around him. When he reached the two, his attention finally shifted to them.

"You two can come in now. Building is clear." After saying that, he stood there, finally looking at his surroundings. The two didn't move, which prompted him to give them a surprisingly soft look.

"You're going to be ok. I'm not going to let anything happen to either of you." His voice came out soft, toned as if he was talking down a toddler from a tantrum. This gave Savannah a bit of courage, and Fiora reluctantly ushered them both towards the front of the building.

Or what was left of it.

Fiora grimaced at the carnage before her. During the residency of the group occupying the building, it was relatively normal looking despite the apocalyptic scenario rolling across the nation. Now, after the group had assaulted the building, it was in shambles. The building was littered with bullet holes, most of the glass had been completely shattered leaving the exterior fully exposed to the elements. Smoke billowed from the building, but was dimming as she could assume fires from the Cleaner and the Hyena were being put out.

The True Son followed behind them, glancing around them with bored but careful eyes.

When they made it to the threshold, Savannah gasped. She closed her eyes, covered her face in her aunt's tattered jacket to hide the bloodshed that lay before them. Broken bodies of men and women lay all around them, their lifeless eyes staring into the abyss. Spent shells and blood covered most surfaces, along with soot and burn marks. It reeked of death and mold.

"You guys are awful." Fiora accused as she stepped over a man in his twenties who was hunched over a desk with three holes punched into his kevlar armor.

"No." The True Son replied, stopping them in their tracks. Fiora turned around, disbelief all over her face.

"You're telling me that what you did to these people wasn't _awful_!?" She screamed. The True Son didn't say a word, he wasn't even looking at her. He was looking beyond her shoulder behind her. Turning around she saw a group of malnourished women all huddled behind the Rogue Agent.

The former S.H.D. operative pulled off her gas mask, which with the strap on the back flipped off her hood giving Fiora a real good look at the Rogue. The Agent was a twenty-something Asian girl whose hair was sweaty and matted to her forehead. Faded highlights of blue and purple lay above emerald green eyes. She had a petite face, with sharp features. A makeshift gauze covered half her face and was damp with her blood. The Division watches swayed gently even when she stood at a still from her backpack strap, glowing brightly.

Her expression dropped from accustory to shock as two of the girls grasped onto the Agent's backpack fearfully. There were ten of them. They were skinny to the bone, and wore tattered large shirts that revealed protruding rib cages and filthy pale skin.

"Who… who are these girls?" Fiora asked, a frightened Savannah still clutching her, who pitied the girls judging by how her eyes began welling with tears.

"Slaves I think, judging by their scars around the wrists and ankles. None of them speak any English, but they understand the tone of your voice enough." The Agent said. "Give me the first aid kit." She held out a hand towards Fiora.

"What are they doing here?" Fiora asked, pulling the backpack off to oblige with the Agent.

"These people were holding them, doing whatever they wanted to these girls. Forcing them to work. Raping them. You know the drill with deranged and fucked-up psychos." She replied, opening the kit and motioning to one of the girls to turn around. She lifted her shirt, revealing a disgusting amount of scars and lesions.

Fiora gasped. '_That… that couldn't be possible, could it?_' She thought, watching the Agent with awe as she delicately applied antiseptic wipes.

"That doesn't make any sense. I stopped by this building and talked with their leader. He was a nice old man who gave me extra food!" Fiora exclaimed, incredulous that the kind older man she met earlier was harboring sex slaves deeper in the building.

"Just a front. Did it to keep suspicion low so that his group could kidnap or take in stragglers for their own pleasures. A widow we met awhile back told us about this place, apparently they killed her husband and kidnapped their daughter while they were on a supply run. We decided to come back here and free them after we got you." The Rogue explained, wrapping gauze on the first one as she looked over to the Black Tusk who just came back with an armful of medical supplies. She nodded to the Tusk who then began administering first aid via the drone. It hummed to life, flying off their back, firing a green light that scanned another girl for all visible signs of harm. It even saw through the clothes.

"And also make sure they get somewhere safe." The True Son from behind Fiora said. The Cleaner grunted in agreement, appearing nearby. The Cleaner stowed their flamethrower/rifle and napalm tank on the ground, before coming over and helping the Black Tusk. Off in the distance, Fiora saw the Hyena slapping the LMB on the shoulder as they exchanged some jokes. It was jarring how they all got along.

Then a shocking realization came over Fiora.

"They… they could have taken us. Why didn't they?" Fiora asked, dumbfounded. She faltered, a chill running down her spine and resonating in her calves. The Agent looked over, cocking her head in a thoughtful way.

"These girls don't speak any English. I think they specifically targeted foreigners." The agent said, a distinct shift of tone to anger in her voice.

Fiora felt a needle pierce through her heart. How could people do this? She thought the atrocities of human nature were confined to Roosevelt Island, even maybe the Metro areas. '_For fucks sake we are in the middle of West Virginia!'_

"The daughter?" Fiora asked, looking at the group. The Agent was silent and didn't respond. Fiora felt her heart fall deeper in her chest cavity.

"Anyways." said the Agent, who turned to her mic.

"How's the clean up?" Her eyes moved left and right repeatedly as she processed whatever information was being fed into her ear piece. "Roger that. Alright, we're going to rest in their barracks. It's in the back on the third floor. It's getting late, let's bounce" She said, trying to change the mood. The True Son left presumably to secure the perimeter. Loud noises from above signalled the rest of her squad was doing something that Fiora couldn't distinguish, probably barricading or clearing debris and bodies.

She motioned for Fiora and Savannah to follow the Cleaner to the barracks.

"What will you do?" Fiora asked. The Agent threw another used antiseptic pad onto the ground, before opening another one to continue cleaning one of the girls.

"Tusk and I will take care of the lambs, and they will head into the barracks when we're finished. I need you to make sure there's adequate bedding for all of us in two rooms. Separate men and women. I'll send someone with food in a few."

She waved them off. The Cleaner gestured with their head which way they should go.

"I want to help." Savannah said, staring at the youngest girl, who looked to be of the same age as her. The ragged girl stood in the back of the group, staring at the floor with empty eyes devoid of emotion or the will to survive.

"No Savannah, you will just get in the way." Fiora said, pulling the girl by the shoulder towards the stairs. Savannah shrugged her off, turning to face her aunt. A tear freely flowed from her crusty cheek, her eyebrows furrowed angrily as her dry and dull pink lips quivered.

"I **want **to help!" She repeated herself, much louder. Fiora froze, surprised by her niece's outburst. Then, she smiled comfortingly, a warm and proud sensation flooded her replacing the horror she previously felt. She forgot how Savannah could literally breathe light into the darkest of situations.

She looked over to the former Division Agent, who raised an eyebrow at Savannah. A smirk grew on the Rogue, and she nodded.

"Take this." She said, unclipping her canteen and handing it towards Savannah. "Make sure every girl drinks some for now. We don't have much so make sure they only drink a little." Savannah smiled at the duo-highlighted Asian, before jumping to take the canteen and rushed to each girl to let them drink. She made exaggerated gestures to guide the girls to drink, even pinching her fingers to detail that they should only drink a little.

Fiora couldn't help but shed a tear herself, it was amazing how the other girls brightened and smiled at Savannah. That girl had a magic to her, something even more infectious than the Dollar Flu.

Hope.

"I'll watch her. You can go Fiora." The Agent said. Fiora looked over, her face suddenly tightening reflexively.

"No, I'll stay with Savannah." She shot back, unintentionally harsh. The Agent flashed a look of annoyance, blinking slowly, before continuing her work and shrugging.

* * *

The day was pretty uneventful after the raid on the insurance building. The group cleaned up the building, allowing the Cleaner to properly dispose of the bodies outside. They barricaded the first floor and roof, opting for a second floor exit the next day. They gathered all the supplies and hoarded them in a supply room next to the bedrooms.

The Rioter and LMB would take the first watch that night. The rest of the group was divided amongst the building relaxing or performing maintenance at their own leisure.

The Agent spat onto the small rag before wiping the frame of her assault rifle. She would have killed for some actual firearm cleaning solvent, but this would do. Her muscles were insanely sore, to the point where if she stopped moving she feared she would just become comatose.

Currently, most of the rescued girls were all huddled together nervously by their beds, wary of her. She didn't blame them for it, especially since she had no idea how long and to what extent they had been tortured and been slaved for. She surmised that they guessed that her group wasn't going to be any better than their previous one. She would change that.

Fiora walked in, her whole body caked in sweat. Behind her Savannah tiredly walked behind her, eyelids fluttering, and head dropping as she staved off sleep. Fiora tucked Savannah in, and then sat next to the Rogue.

"You got a name?" She asked abruptly. The Asian looked up with a raised eyebrow, and continued cleaning her gun.

"Lily." She replied in a short manner, like a teacher addressing an unruly student.

"So what's the deal with you and these goons? How did you all come together?" Fiora asked, sitting down and beginning to unlace her boots. Lily finished cleaning the rifle, and began assembling it.

"No deal. We all just have the same goal." She answered shortly, earning a brief scowl from Fiora. She could tell Fiora wanted to know more, but she was too exhausted to entertain the runaway Outcast.

"Okay, but how did you get them to agree to not kill each other?" Fiora asked more forcefully, leaning in so her face wasn't too far from Lily's.

Lily sighed, rolling her eyes before giving Fiora an annoyed look. "You ran away from Emeline. Why?" Fiora recoiled from the question. Her scowl deepened as she defended herself.

"Emeline became too psychotic with her methods. She stopped caring about the people under her care and began obsessed with vengeance. All she wanted was to hurt, and I wanted to get away with that. I couldn't let Savannah grow up in that."

Lily nodded, finishing the assembly of her rifle and put it aside. She then drew her PPW-PP19 from the thigh holster and began dismantling it. Memories flooded back to her, and the therapeutic process of cleaning her guns helped her remember.

"All of us ran away from our factions because we didn't like the way things are headed. We were all promised something that drastically changed as the virus took hold and decimated not just mankind, but their humanity." She took the rag and began wiping down the parts meticulously, her eyes glazed as she reminisced.

"Take Matt for instance, the True Son. Ridgeway promised that through his strict and ruthless rule, the world would become a better place. That something good required sacrifice of certain freedoms and livelihoods. Obviously, that was a lie and Matt saw through it. Everyone else has something very similar." She said, continuing her work.

Fiora watched her in silence, digesting the information. Save for the thigh holster and Division watch, Lily was only wearing a plain bra and short-shorts, all of her clothes lay in a neat pile next to her. The watch still glowed red, and the three watches she carried with her still beamed a bright orange.

"What about you?" Fiora asked, her tone low as Lily assumed she was worried about the answer. "The Division's goal is to restore order to the government right? Aren't they the good guys? I've seen a bunch of you running around trying to help civilians. Why did you go against them?"

Lily stopped in her tracks. The coppery taste of blood came to her senses. She had bitten her lip so hard she cut it open. She looked up at Fiora with inquisitive eyes. For a moment, green clashed a reluctant, but unyielding brown. Satisfied she saw what she wanted, Lily set back to cleaning her pistol and unveiling her history.

"Yes, you're right. The Division's Agents are supposed to 'ensure the continuity of the government in case of a catastrophic event' and all that. Initially, we were sent to assist the JTF in trying to stave off the factions in Manhattan so that they could establish consistent aid to the civilians of New York. However, things got complicated..." Lily trailed off, closing her eyes tight as images flooded back to her.

The sound of flames enveloped around her, the smell of thick black smoke, the feeling of dread. A blood soaked hand stretched up from a mangled body. Blue eyes looked up at her in utter terror. One word escaped those blood-soaked lips. One word that haunted Lily ever since.

"Why?" Fiora asked, a curious expression on her face as she brought her knees up to her chin and rested her head on them. The word shook Lily, though she tried to hide it. She didn't know if Fiora saw her visible discomfort but that didn't seem to deter the woman at all.

"I came in with three others. We didn't know each other but we were brothers and sisters in arms. We went through the same training process, we all went through the same hardships to become Agents of The Division. Through my training we were drilled with a sense of duty, even if we answered to no one. They selected us for that. We weren't tethered to any sort of hierarchy to allow for autonomous and relentless efficiency. But we still answered to at least one person."

"The President?" Fiora asked. Lily was surprised at her guess, and nodded.

"We, and every other Agent was activated and sent en-masse after the whole country was sent to shit. Our squad came in under Ellis." Lily loathed that name. Just saying it made her seethe with rage. She took a deep sigh, closing her eyes to clear her mind and continued.

"Our squad did well enough to get his attention. Ellis gave us the duty of rescuing his _friend_ from the True Sons. Senator Edward Pollick."

Fiora scratched her head. Lily watched as Fiora tried to connect the dots on that name. She didn't have the patience to wait.

"He's the 'pray the gay away' senator who beat up a transgender teen in highschool." Lily said, earning a gasp and eye bulge from Fiora.

"You were supposed to rescue that guy!?" Fiora exclaimed, incredulous. Lily nodded.

"You could imagine my disgust. But orders were orders. I was obligated to fulfill them since they were from the President himself." Lily finished cleaning and reassembled her pistol, her mind racing with emotions.

"When we rescued him, we found a whole bunch of other captives that were at the compound. There just happened to be a gay couple among them. As soon as we got him out of his cell, he asked for Sophia's gun, and executed them right on the spot. No warning. No justification. Just killed them."

Fiora exhaled sharply, her fists clenched at her sides. Her legs were down, and she leaned forward, hanging on Lily's every word.

"Our coordinator, who could see and hear everything we did, had us disarm him immediately which we did. But I didn't want to just disarm him. I wanted to kill him."

"Did you?" Fiora asked immediately. Lily snorted, smiling at Fiora.

"You bet I did. But I bided my time, and made it look like an accident. Didn't matter, Ellis suspected me and he was pissed."

"I'll bet." Fiora chimed in, flashing a half-grin. Lily didn't return it.

"Had me disavowed and wanted to strip me of my gear. Even if he didn't have proof. You can only guess what my answer was." Lily gave Fiora an empty smirk, and her hand touched the cold metal of her Division watch which still glowed red.

"And those?" Fiora didn't hesitate to ask, much like Lily didn't hesitate or waste her time trying to sugar coat and beat around the bush. She appreciated that, even if it brought sour memories to the surface. She didn't even have to look at Fiora to know what she was referring to.

"Agents that came after me. Because of Ellis, I had to kill my own comrades." She fingered the first watch. "Alex Winsley." She moved her hand to the next watch. "Felix Lopez." Then, she rested her hand on the last. "Kayla Fischer."

"I'm sorry." Fiora softly said, frowning. Lily shrugged.

"They were following orders. I can't blame them. But no one is going to stop me from finding a cure to this." Lily clenched her fist, gripping the still orange watches hard. "Not even my brothers and sisters."

* * *

Woo! End of Chapter 2! Thanks for following me into this journey so far! I'll see you Agents later!


	3. Chapter Two and a Half

In the pitch blackness of a room in a derelict building, a soft beeping penetrated the silence that was in the room for three hours before.

It was instantly silenced, followed by the shifting of clothes and a soft groan.

"You awake, Athens?" A raspy, but soft pitched voice asked. A groan was the only response.

"I am now." A higher pitched voice responded, with a clicking noise as they stretched their jaw muscles.

A light turned on in the room, revealing two slim women, both in nothing more than short-shorts and a muscle shirt that barely covered their bodies. However, they did both have a holster strapped to their thigh, with a handle of a handgun sticking out of it.

"Five more minutes?" Asked the one still laying with her face buried in a makeshift hammock. Her hair was half brown, half a faded blue. Her hair came down to her mid-back. The other snorted, blowing a tuft of blonde hair out of her face. She had a large tattoo on the side of her face, which looked like a futuristic mask that laid on top of rough scarred skin.

"Yeah, but let's get going. She's getting further and further from us every day." The blonde said, cracking her neck and stretching her hands out together to crack her knuckles. The blue haired girl rolled onto her back, opening one green eye to the blonde.

"Why do you have to say it like that?" She asked, a soft glare on her face.

The blonde shrugged.

"Say it like what? It's true." She replied, before twisting her back which gave a few satisfying pops.

"Like I forgot why we're here." The brunette grumbled, annoyed. She sat up pointing a small finger at the blonde. "That I forgot our mission, and what it means to me. Don't forget, I lost more than you."

The blonde raised an eyebrow, and looked at the watch that was on the brunette's wrist. It was the same as her own. And they both glowed a dim but strong orange.

"I know you haven't forgotten why we're after Lily. I'm just giving you a little pep in your step so we can get back on track, Athens."

Athens lowered her hand, pulling at a hairband and simultaneously her hair to tie it in a bun. Together, it looked like a chocolate and bubblegum cotton candy cone on the back of her head.

"Whatever Rome. She's only half a day away anyway. We'll catch her today." Athens said, swinging her legs from the hammock and resting it on the dusty concrete floor. Rome nodded, turning her head to the pile of gear next to them. Seeker Mines, Ballistic Shields, Drones, Chem Launchers, Grenades, Guns, and Ammunition.

"Yes. Yes we will."

* * *

Wow, Covid sure seems like it made The Division our lives, hasn't it? Minus the chaos and death of course. Just wanted to write a little snippet to tell you guys I'm still alive, and I hope you've all been well! Till next time Agents.


End file.
